JC-NRLF 


131 


Tomorrow's  Yesterday 

A  Book  of  Poems 


By 


ERNEST  BENSHIMOL 


r  -\  - 


TOMORROW'S  YESTERDAY 


TOMORROW'S 
YESTERDAY 

A  BOOK  OF  POEMS 

BY 

ERNEST  BENSHIMOL 


BOSTON 

SMALL,  MAYNAED  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1920 

BY  SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
(INCORPORATED) 


A  little  rhyme 

To  set  the  world  in  harmony 

With  itself— 

A  little  elf 

To  cast  it  spinning  through  the  sea 

Of  Time. 


CONTENTS 

Page 

Marsh  Dreams 3 

The  Passing  of  a  Shadow 14 

Morning  and  Evening 17 

Before  the  Oracle    .     . 19 

Chaos 21 

Among  Thieves 23 

Spirit  of  Ages 25 

Anton 27 

Sanctity 29 

Gold .30 

The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 31 

Dragon 33 

The  Eternal 34 

Confession  of  Hope 36 

Atonement 38 

What  is  Thine  Answer? ,     .  39 

^Spring 42 

Disdain 43 

Dream  and  Love 44 

Foam  of  Deep  and  Cloud  of  Sky 46 

Woman 47 


Page 

In  the  Wilderness 50 

Redemption 51 

I  Cannot  Hide  You 52 

Turn  to  My  Arms  54 

'  I  Sent  Her  Forth 56 

Unbind  Thy  Hair 58 

.Good  Bye  .  .  .  . 59 

The  Last  Morning 61 

Regret 62 

VTheCry 63 

Scarlet  Wife 64 

-Consolation 65 

.The  Tale  of  the  Grey  Wolf 67 

*The  Return 74 

The  Moon  on  the  Palisades 78 

Song  of  a  Suicide 80 

The  Weeper  . 81 

At  Dusk 83 

Evening 85 

The  End  of  the  Trail 86 

%The  Story  of  the  Judge 88 

My  Faith 92 

As  I  Pray  (Two  little  drops  of  poison,  etc.)  ...  94 

The  Pestilence 95 

In  a  Glass  of  Red  Wine  ,  97 


TOMORROW'S  YESTERDAY 


TOMORROW'S  YESTERDAY 

MARSH  DREAMS 

The  moon  was  over  the  silver  marsh 
And  a  flood  of  light  on  the  grasses  lay 
That  like  a  sea  from  the  distant  surf 
In  shadowy  ripples  across  a  bay 
Of  unreality  in  the  night 
Beckoned  the  brooding  soul  away. 

This  is  a  story  of  self  and  self, 
With  trial  and  judgment  and  love  of  life; 
No  death  too  swift  to  eternal  rest, 
The  depth  that  fathoms  the  end  of  strife, 
When  soul  hath  unto  the  soul  confessed. 
[3] 


I 

I  was  alone  in  the  wildwood  and  the  fen, 

I  was  the  child  of  the  salt  marsh  and  the  tide, 

Grown  so,  nor  born  to  the  deal  —  nor  death  was  mine 

Deep  in  the  soft  breast,  deep  in  the  silencing  arms 

Of  sand.  I  care  not  that  your  carrion  eyed 

Me  so,  your  stalwart  keepers  of  the  law, 

I  am  no  beast  to  strike  with  beak  or  claw, 

Not  I  the  reed-toothed  viper  of  the  glen 

To  fang  you  low  yet  nearer  to  your  heart 

Than  whisp  of  steel:  my  passing  heeds,  not  harms, 

Your  own.    Begone,  and  let  me  so  depart 

Like  to  the  foam  white  whispering  in  the  brine. 

If  I  but  lie,  if  I  but  hold  the  thread 
That  twists  across  its  own  sad  path  and  leaves 
No  grain  of  truth  to  stand  among  the  sheaves 
Of  imaging, 
And  if  I  sing 

Like  some  poor  madman  that  I  seem,  of  life 
Deep  drawn  and  shadowed,  then  there  is  no  wife 
Of  mine  that  sleeps  among  the  murdered  dead. 

[4] 


II 

Love  you  the  mist-swept  moor 

And  the  dreaming  sea? 

Love  you  the  pale  moonlight 

And  the  stars  that  linger 

Like  a  last  note  that  whispers  at  the  finger, 

Love  you  the  desolate  solitude  of  life? 

Then  you  love  me. 

Have  I  said  desolate,  night, 

When  a  god  I  am  grown  with  the  gust? 

Oh,  drown  the  lie  at  my  lips 

And  the  sea  will  I  take  to  my  breast 

And  the  mist  for  a  shroud! 

I  have  loved  thee  and  scorned  thee  together, 

I  have  withered  the  wave  at  its  crest, 

I  have  banished  the  moon  with  a  cloud, 

When  I  loved  I  was  strong  with  thy  strength, 

In  my  scorn  I  was  poorer  than  dust. 


[5] 


Ill 

If  you  convict  or  grant  me  withering  pain 
Of  life,  you  are  but  judges  of  the  slain, 
Not  me,  I  know  myself.    You  cannot  find 
One  judgment  other,  for  the  shifting  mind 
Is  door  and  threshold  to  the  soul.  A  glance 
Of  love  makes  glade  of  desert  circumstance, 
A  kiss  turns  silver  moonlight  into  wine, 
A  sin  is  gift  of  heaven  flung  to  hell, 
That  reels  and  slinks  and  feints  and  will  not  tell; 
Judge  now  if  that  be  mine! 

And  we  are  followers  of  the  day,  not  night, 
Not  night  beneath  whose  awesome  breast  I  pitch 
My  tent;  between  whose  firefly  expanse 
And  death  lives  but  the  firefly.  I  knew 
The  wild  cloud  and  the  rain;  I  felt  the  switch 
Of  summer  torrent  on  my  cheek;  I  smote 
A  kiss  into  life  and  still  it  would  not  float 
Far  from  the  lips  that  banished  it  to  flight. 
Oh,  thought  of  life  is  dross  of  life  and  all 
[6] 


Dies  like  a  senseless  flower  in  the  dew; 

I  cannot  rise  so  high  I  shall  not  fall 

Nor  dream  to  climb  eternity  with  a  glance. 

IV 

I  will  breathe  me  a  scarlet  fire  into  the  dust, 
I  will  strew  a  measure  of  pearls  upon  the  flame 
And  let  the  smoke  rise  wreathing  to  the  stars! 
Oh,  burn  thy  time  and  neither  wait  nor  trust 
If  thou  hast  taken  life  and  wilt  no  blame, 
Take  thou  thine  own  and  leave  no  coward  trace 
To  come  when  thou  art  gone  and  haunt  the  place. 

He  was  a  man  of  strength,  to  cast  the  stone 
Pebblewise  out  above  the  surf  until 
The  eye  was  lost  upon  the  wave.    Alone 
Befriended  of  the  cataract  of  men 
Who  seek  to  balance  wisdom  on  the  tip 
Of  the  seagull's  wing  or  splurge  it  from  the  pen 
He  did  not  ponder  with  the  fool,  nor  slip 
Into  the  calyx  of  the  snow-white  death. 
[7] 


He  saw  the  torrent  rushing  to  the  main, 
He  saw  the  sun  that  drew  it  into  rain, 
The  wind  that  flung  it  as  a  kiss  is  flung, 
The  earth  that  held  it  deep  its  veins  among, 
And  laughed,  for  to  the  bosom  whence  it  sprung 
Turned  it  forever  back  again. 

V 

Lamp  of  the  dark  night, 

Lamp  of  love, 

In  her  eyes  I  saw  the  gleaming, 

Moon  of  the  whippoorwill, 

Moon  of  the  sea, 

In  my  realm  of  far  above 

On  thy  face  is  dreaming 

Smile  to  comfort  me? 

Leave  thy  waters,  leave  thy  forests, 
Let  the  vision  of  thy  face 
Dance  among  the  little  planets 
In  the  loneliness  of  space. 
[8] 


In  my  soul  I  wish,  I  want  thee, 
All  the  majesty  and  peace, 
Let  my  pain  that  cannot  haunt  thee 
Fall  asunder,  writhe  and  cease. 

VI 

He  was  the  cunning  sort,  that  gathered  men 
To  feed  his  intellect  upon,  in  den 
Of  feathery  silk,  a  spider-weaver,  yet 
Perverse  and  hideous  to  his  kind.    Forget 
The  haggard,  beaten  thing  I  am  and  see 
The  parchment  of  forbidden  years  with  me. 
I  am  so  far  from  Time  I  know  not  whence 
Dancing  the  flight  of  perfidy  I  came : 
I  nourish  soul  and  body  with  a  flame 
And  deem  it  recompense. 

We  walked  the  melody  of  space  together, 
We  drew  a  life  from  death  and  bade  it  tether 
Vein  to  the  vein  of  dust,  and  voice  and  pulse 
To  make  the  living  still,  the  dead  convulse, 
And  when  experiment  demanded  pain 
[9] 


We  laughed  and  charactered  the  house  as  vain, 
Draining  desire,  lest  the  flesh  commit 
The  soul  to  death's  interminable  length, 
And  we,  the  strong  men  prostitute  our  strength 
For  glance  of  reeling  wit. 

VII 

Oh,  the  house  of  my  soul  is  a  house  of  clay 
And  the  site  is  a  shifting  sand, 
Tomorrow  the  tide  may  come  and  all, 
Tomorrow,  forever,  my  house  may  fall, 
But  the  sun  is  warm  at  the  door  today 
And  I  live  as  long  as  my  house  shall  stand. 

Thrice  did  I  pass  my  window  love, 
And  thrice  did  I  see  thee  smile, 
For  the  wind  was  sweet 
And  the  soul  was  mad 
And  the  trees  in  a  rhythmic  sway  the  while 
Bade  the  disconsolate  heart  to  beat, 
So  I  rose  from  the  pansy  bed  at  thy  feet 
And  leaned  on  thy  breast  and  was  glad. 
[10] 


VIII 

Oh,  he  left  me  his  home  and  his  garden  and  thee, 
And  he  left,  at  his  gate,  with  a  laugh; 
As  yonder  marsh  hen  mocks  at  the  sea 
With  a  swoop  and  a  shiver  of  ribaldry, 
He  mocked  as  he  killed  what  he  gave  to  me 
And  I  swooned  as  he  flung  me  the  lifeless  half. 

Oh,  gather  thy  strength  and  lash  thy  steed 
For  the  quarry  is  over  the  mountains  gone 
And  call  the  countryside  as  you  go 
For  the  hand  of  a  friend  is  the  heart  of  a  foe, 
Nor  tell  of  remorse  till  tomorrow  nor  heed 
The  nauseate  madness,  and  hasten  on. 

IX 

Unleash  the  hounds  of  bitterness  and  regret, 
Fierce  to  the  scented  trail  of  nostril,  let 
The  blood-sown  wind  sweep  them  upon  me,  blow 
The  eager  breath  and  fangs  as  white  as  snow 
Here  close  to  my  throat,  the  burning  eyes 
[11] 


Reflecting  death  in  desire.  Let  me  rise 
Unto  the  moon  and  sever  will  from  truth. 
In  swiftness  they  unto  the  endless  chase 
As  summer  clouds  that  whisper  into  space 
And  are  gone.  Then  call  it  truth? 

I  wish  the  moon  at  morn,  the  sun  at  eve, 
I  wish  the  terror  of  the  night  to  slay 
Itself  and  be  its  counterpart  for  the  day, 
Laughing  forever,  and  the  hate  to  weave 
Its  hissing  strands  into  the  garland  love, 
The  last  to  fascinate,  and  twine  above 
My  temples;  Time  dream  to  decay. 

X 

Had'st  thou  but  waited  when  the  tide  was  flood, 
There  in  the  deep  white  offering  of  the  moon, 
Had'st  thou  not  flung  a  spray  across  the  boat 
And  drowned  the  passage  of  our  souls  too  soon, 
There  were  no  wanton  stirring  in  the  blood, 
Nor  gleam  of  hatred  on  the  sea  afloat. 
[12] 


Reality  is  centered  in  the  past, 

Tonight  is  dreaming  what  the  day  has  done; 

Thy  pride  was  like  a  bat  above  the  mast, 

Unbanishable,  evil,  as  the  sun 

That  lurks  in  the  high  heavens  when  the  land  is  parched, 

Yet  when  I  smote  'twas  not  on  thee  that  fell 

The  judgment  scorned  of  paradise,  that  marched 

In  a  chain  of  bright  red  lightning  o'er  thy  brow, 

'Twas  here  upon  this  breast  that  wanders  now 

The  long,  interminable  path  to  hell. 


[13] 


THE  PASSING  OF  A  SHADOW 

I  know  a  nook  in  utmost  solitude, 

Covered  with  moss;  beneath  a  silver  rock 

Flows  forth  the  crystal  silence  of  a  spring. 

There  in  the  sorrow  of  the  eve  I  steal, 

Bathed  in  the  moonlight;  and  the  world,  asleep, 

Knows  not  nor  wonders.  There  is  an  art  forgotten, 

Mystic,  I  breathe  the  spirit  of  the  earth. 

"Thou  art  thyself,  yet  of  the  whole  a  part, 
Life  were  as  nothing  if  thou  wert  not  here, 
Bearing  like  column  through  the  turbid  night, 
Sturdy,  the  structure  of  Humanity. " 

Hours  and  hours,  or  if  time  be  long, 
Ages  and  ages  I  have  waited  there, 
Knowing  the  voice  would  come  again,  and  now: 
[14] 


"Men,  in  the  great  world  dwelling,  myriads;  men 
Rounding  the  whole  into  a  mighty  mass 
And  shapeful,  over  the  surface  of  the  earth; 
Tillers  of  fertile  plains,  of  swaying  leas; 
Herdsmen  where  stern-eyed  mountains  frown  upon 
The  golden  bend  of  the  seashore!  Everywhere 
Incarnate  soul,  innumerable  lives, 
Incarnate  soul,  yet  all  no  more  than  one. 


Ye  are  interpreters  of  thy  mother,  child, 

Formed  but  to  sing  with  the  sea,  and  with  the  wind 

To  run  and  tussle,  shriek  and  laugh  and  be  still: 


As  sun  loves  planet,  so  ye  love,  so  bless, 
Then  pass  to  everlasting  destiny. 


But  play  with  thy  delicate  fingers  on  the  reed, 
Then  cast  the  reed  away:  the  sound  is  gone, 
The  music  lingers  yet  —  so  lingers  life. " 
[15] 


And  then  the  ghostliness  of  the  screech-owl  breaks 

The  ecstasy  of  that  unknown,  lipless  cry, 

With  curious  quavering,  trembling  through  the  dark. 

But  as  the  dawn  awakens,  then,  at  last,  • 

Before  the  splendor  of  a  day  of  hope: 

"Oh  thou,  with  mind  too  small  to  understand, 
Living  through  ages  helpless  and  alone, 
Take  to  thy  breast  the  love  that  is  not  flown, 
Mankind,  thou  art  incomparably  grand. 


U6] 


MORNING  AND  EVEN 

Morning  is  dust  and  even  is  ash, 

Only  the  day  is  the  fire  between, 

Only  the  white  waves  sweeping  low, 

Only  the  eddying  winds  that  blow 

Under  the  sunlight  of  heaven,  are  true, 

And  the  love  that  burns  at  my  heart,  and  you. 

Springtime  is  faithless  and  winter  responds 
As  soulless  stone  to  the  infant  touch, 
Give  me  the  summer  and  drown  the  rest 
As  a  dross  that  only  supports  the  best, 
And  summer  wine  or  a  winter's  night 
And  a  summer's  glow  in  the  anthracite. 

Birth  is  a  passion  and  death  is  a  pain: 
I  wonder  that  seekers  of  wisdom  go 
[17] 


To  the  entrance  and  exit,  and  borrow  strife 
When  they  dwell  in  the  very  house  of  life; 
When  the  wisdom  of  summer  and  love  and  day 
Is  theirs,  why  will  they  throw  it  away? 


[18] 


BEFORE  THE  ORACLE 

Intemperance  shall  not  quarrel  with  the  will 

But  give  it  sway  till  rich  be  riper  yet, 

For  who  would  draw  the  clusters  from  the  vine 

Until  they  yearned  to  sparkle  into  wine, 

To  dance  among  the  veins  and  sing,  "Forget." 

The  plain  shall  be  the  solace  of  the  hill 
For  him  who  climbs,  but  on  the  towering  shelf 
He  must  not  turn  to  contemplate  the  slope, 
He  must  not  ask  the  wind  to  grant  him  hope 
Nor  waste  his  labor  pitying  himself. 

The  world  will  lift  the  strong  and  crush  the  weak, 
The  road  of  life  is  cluttered  all  its  length 
With  stoneless  graves  and  tombs  unwrit  for  shame, 
Nor  shalt  thou  cry,  "I  stumbled  as  I  came," 
For  in  the  frailest  will  is  mightiest  strength. 

[19] 


The  dark  will  not  inspire  them  that  seek 
The  day  is  but  the  masking  of  the  eyes, 
Tonight  depart,  tomorrow  is  thy  choice, 
Ask  thou  from  Time  the  golden  gift:  a  voice 
That  fades  into  the  sunken  vale  and  dies. 


[20] 


CHAOS 

The  truth  is  master  of  the  lie, 
The  fool  is  lost,  the  man  is  shaken, 
A  breath  of  wind  has  crossed  the  sky 
To  flame  and  burn,  and  merry  waken 
Light  is  the  deep  lake  and  the  stars, 
Or  draw  the  pulsate  heart  of  earth 
Closer  and  closer. 

The  night  must  wane  into  the  birth 
Of  dawn,  and  death  give  way  to  dreaming, 
Thence  into  life,  for  dancing  mirth 
That  finds  no  rest  in  sigh  or  seeming 
Strikes  with  a  hissing  bolt  and  mars 
The  dream  of  the  followers  of  dust 
Deeper  and  deeper. 

[21] 


Then  rise  and  live,  for  rise  ye  must, 
Rise  and  rejoice  for  Time  is  driven 
Back  to  the  kingdom  of  dewy  lust, 
Death  to  the  keeping  of  Death  is  given, 
And  dark  new  flung  from  the  breast  of  days 
Shatters  to  bits  like  an  earthen  vase, 
Broken  forever. 


[22] 


AMONG  THIEVES 

Open,  open,  ere  the  sunset  slink 

Below  the  marshes,  open  unto  me; 

Open,  open,  ere  the  nighthawk  drink 

One  silent  draught  from  out  the  brackish  pool, 

Ere  mist  in  shrouding  horror  risen  from  the  sea 

Envelop,  open,  open  to  the  fool! 

Hearken,  hearken,  hearken  to  the  pledge 

In  hollow  echo  sounding  o'er  the  waste: 

Hearken,  hearken;  from  each  rugged  ledge 

That  sloping  down  slips  out  into  the  main 

It  calls:  nor  wilder  than  my  heart  in  trembling  haste 

Beats  out  the  reeling  vision  of  my  brain. 

Honor,  honor,  was  it  thus  before 
To  slay  the  best  ye  sought  the  strongest  out? 

[23] 


Ere  I  was  gone  was  bolt  upon  the  door 

Or  hate  but  hidden  in  your  hearts  away? 

Hell  sets  the  whole  world  spinning  in  a  fiendish  rout, 

In  yonder  mist  I  die  before  the  day. 


[24] 


SPIRIT  OF  AGES 

What  is  the  government,  what  is  the  law, 
What  is  the  strength  that  holds  a  people  so? 
As  one  would  strew  the  air  with  seeds 
And  bid  them  grow 

So  are  we  strewn  across  the  night,  in  awe, 
Like  swallows  underneath  the  moon. 

Conscious  of  power,  glad  in  a  world's  distress, 
Proud  of  the  strength  to  crush,  and  brook  no  ill, 
A  voice  cries  out  in  passioned  note 
And  wild  to  kill, 

"Long  have  I  led  and  now  I  bid  aggress! 
Ye  sin  that  yet  ye  have  not  bled. " 

What  is  the  government,  what  is  the  right, 
What  is  the  strength  that  holds  a  people  so? 
[25] 


Are  we  yet  dreamers  of  the  dark 
Who  cannot  know, 

Or  shall  we  rise  with  all  a  hidden  might 
And  strike  the  mask  from  off  our  eyes! 


[26] 


ANTON 

Anton,  sprung  of  the  wolf-hound, 
Would  a'wooing  go, 
Fair  or  foul  to  win  or  slay, 
Fleeting  love  and  fly  away, 
Bore  his  dagger  on  departing 
But  I  took  a  bow. 

Anton,  sprung  of  the  wolf-hound, 
Slunk  beyond  the  stream, 
Like  a  skulking  beast  he  crept 
Where  the  forest  lily  slept, 
Bent  above  her  half  uncertain, 
Would  not  break  her  dream. 

Anton,  sprung  of  the  wolf-hound, 
Beat  upon  his  brow, 

[27] 


Stood  a  moment  sad  and  still, 
Humbled  passion  to  his  will, 
Turned  and  fled  into  the  forest, 
Faithful  to  his  vow. 

Anton,  sprung  of  the  wolf-hound, 
Does  not  know  the  rest; 
Did  not  see  her  as  she  woke, 
Did  not  hear  the  name  she  spoke, 
Dreaming?  Nay!  there  lies  adreaming 
Arrow  in  her  breast. 


[28] 


SANCTITY 

Evergreens  and  snow, 

Calm  and  a  forest  solitude. 

The  hidden  brooklets  flow 

Under  the  shielding  ice,  and  strange 

Pool  witches  softly  blow 

Through  dark  weeds  swaying  to  and  fro, 

In  restless  change. 

Place  thy  lips  to  mine, 

Here  in  the  wilderness  of  God, 

That  like  a  golden  wine 

Swift  may  the  hidden  current  bear 

The  fleeting  heart's  design: 

Deep  under  snowwhite  brows  divine 

His  presence  there. 

[29] 


GOLD 

Gold,  gold,  that  giveth  everything, 
A  little  grain  within  the  eye  a-glistening, 
To  set  the  blood  aglow  the  ear  a-listening, 
Gold,  gold  that  giveth  everything. 

Not  as  the  wine  to  make  men  dance  and  sing, 
To  tread  the  earth  as  cloud  on  misty  wing, 
But  in  the  helpless  heart  alone 
To  make  it  grand  or  barren  as  thine  own, 
Gold,  gold  that  giveth  everything. 

Not  as  the  filmy  soul  to  make  men  pray  for, 
In  weary  pilgrimage  to  search  the  day  for, 
Thine  is  a  little  strand  the  whole  world  compassing, 
A  little  rainbow  strand  to  which  they  cling, 
And  when  they  have  thee,  lo,  thy  grace  is  flown, 
Gold,  gold  that  giveth  everything. 
[30] 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 

Youth  dreams  and  age  regrets, 

Youth's  dream  is  of  a  day 

Unknown  and  of  a  hidden  reckoning; 

Youth  dreams  and  age  regrets, 

And  trembling  age  regrets 

But  of  the  past  and  lost  youth  beckoning. 

Youth  gazes  forward,  age  behind, 

Youth  sees  the  rising  of  the  golden  sun 

Youth  sees  the  day  in  all  its  splendor  light; 

Youth  gazes  forward,  age  behind, 

And  trembling  age  behind 

As  crimson  sunset  whispers  of  the  night. 


[31] 


Youth  fears,  but  age  is  strong, 

Youth's  fear  is  of  a  Time 

That  taketh  all  and  giveth  naught  in  stead; 

Youth  fears,  but  age  is  strong, 

Yea,  trembling  age  is  strong 

And  laughs  —  though  on  the  morrow  it  be  dead. 


[32] 


DRAGON 

I  fear  him  where  the  long  grass  waves, 
I  fear  him  in  the  limpid,  silent  pool; 
Where  deep  the  sensuous  shadows  of  the  glen 
Enveil  me,  there  the  form  I  know 
Uprises  at  my  feet. 

Dull  eyes  that  fascinate  and  greet, 
A  saffron  throat  whereon  the  sun  may  glow 
In  vain,  but  for  the  life  pulse  now  and  then. 
I  fear  him,  hear  him,  yet  the  fool 
Takes  ever  what  he  craves. 


[33] 


THE   ETERNAL 

i 

The  long  day  comes 

After  the  dawn, 

And  the  murmur  of  drums 

Rolling  and  beating,  hushed  and  repeating. 

2 

The  white  mist  steals 

Over  the  land 

And  a  dark  vulture  wheels 

High  in  the  graven  clouds  like  a  craven. 

3 

The  death  guns  boom 
Into  the  light 
With  a  fiery  doom 

Belched  from  each  swelling  throat  and  repelling. 
[34] 


4 

Thou,  it  is  Thou 

Come  with  the  day, 

Let  a  kiss  on  my  brow 

Still  the  discerning  life  and  the  burning. 

5 

Take  Thou  the  pain 
Out  of  mine  eyes 
And  the  vision  of  slain 
Held  in  each  greening  flash  and  careening. 


[35] 


CONFESSION  OF  HOPE 

A  stirring  in  my  veins, 

The  wind  in  the  poplar  trees, 

A  whisper  on  my  brow: 

As  quivering  prayer  the  thunderbolt  restrains. 

As  shore  is  impotent  to  the  seas 

Life  sweeps  me  onward  now. 

My  cast  is  with  the  breath 
Of  multitudes;  with  the  waves 
My  hope  is;  with  the  whole, 
With  all  this  little  world  of  worlds:  who  saith, 
"Seek  him  and  him  alone  who  saves 
Himself, "  he  hath  no  soul. 

And  if  I  pledge  this  clay 
Unto  the  eternal  night, 

[36] 


And  if  I  wish  for  rest, 

Still  is  the  burning  of  the  summer's  day 

To  claim  its  mockery  of  light 

And  me?    And  is  it  best? 

Up  through  the  shadow  loft 

Of  murmuring  pines  and  tall, 

Unto  the  stars  my  prayer 

Shall  go,  and  though  the  winged  cry  be  soft 

And  unto  earth  again  it  fall 

Must  it  not  find  Thee  there? 


[37; 


ATONEMENT 

I  fear  the  quiet  treachery  of  things, 
I  steal  away  from  over-golden  day 
And  in  some  somber  cavern  hide  myself, 
Time  moves,  day  goes,  not  I 
I  cannot  die. 

I  watch  the  panther  and  the  fluttering  wings 
Of  some  wild-throated,  pinioned  bird  of  prey, 
I  shrink  at  death,  draw  back,  and  hide  myself, 
Like  flows  and  ebbs,  not  I 
I  cannot  die. 

God  gave  the  enormous  harmony  of  light, 
Yet  what  is  God  and  what  am  I  to  see 
Aught  else  but  that  I  list  and  flee, 
Baring  my  breast  and  shrieking  in  the  flight. 
Dead,  dead,  he  lies,  not  I 
I  will  not  die. 

[38] 


WHAT  IS  THINE  ANSWER? 

This  is  the  land  where  the  shadows  move, 
Stealthily,  softly,  coming  and  going, 
This  is  the  land  where  the  cymbals  crash, 
The  quivering  drums  and  the  tramp  of  feet, 
The  voice  of  thunder  and  serpent  lash, 
Where  all  things  opposite  stumble  and  meet 
And  steel  springs  up  from  the  early  sowing, 
Terror  and  love. 

Summer  is  lost  and  the  fields  are  white, 
Life  from  the  heather  and  plain  is  leading 
All  that  remains  of  her  pillaged  fold, 
Back  from  the  frozen  brook  and  the  stealth 
Of  the  white-armed  lover  of  death,  the  cold, 
The  scorner  that  mocks  at  her  hoarded  wealth, 

[39] 


The  wolf  that  comes  when  her  breast  is  bleeding, 
Out  of  the  night. 

This  is  the  land  of  the  glistening  throne, 
Gifted  with  life,  and  reviler  of  living, 
This  is  the  temple  of  sunken  hope, 
The  candle-hung  garden  of  dreamless  sleep 
Where  blind  and  visioned  together  grope, 
Where  night-blown  shadows  their  vigils  keep 
Over  the  tomb  of  recalcitrant  giving, 
Graven  in  stone. 

The  white  arm  droops  from  the  golden  lute, 
The  strings  re-echo  the  burst  of  playing, 
A  silence  hangs  on  the  ruddy  lips 
Where  dies  the  fountain  of  song  at  its  source, 
But  far  through  a  shadowy  vale  there  slips 
A  river  of  pain  in  a  turbulent  course, 
Its  waters  red  with  the  wine  of  slaying, 
Writhing  and  mute. 


[401 


Perhaps  if  the  dawn  shall  come  again,     , 
Or  night  bind  up  her  sable  tresses, 
Closing  her  eyes,  and  faint  away, 
Blown  from  the  morning  as  dreams  are  blown, 
Flinging  her  heritage  to  the  day 
Nor  life  remember  the  visions  flown 
And  blush  to  a  crimson  with  new  caresses, 
Has  it  been  vain? 


[41] 


SPRING 

Bright  robes  and  brightly  flowing, 
Fair  tresses,  violet  eyes, 
Soft  dimples,  coming,  going 
Like  wanton  butterflies! 

Who  cares  that  time  is  fleeting, 
Who  weeps  that  all  must  fade; 
When  mad  the  heart  is  beating 
Who  loves  and  is  afraid? 

Come  closer,  closer,  tell  me 
The  secret  of  thy  call; 
Down  to  thy  lips  compel  me 
One  moment,  that  is  all. 


[42] 


DISDAIN 

Love  is  a  mistress  of  the  wine  of  night, 

For  in  the  breeze  no  passion  lives,  the  spray 

That  flings  a  million  harmonies  to  the  wave 

Is  free. 

And  love  is  drowsy,  sensuous,  of  the  clay, 

The  harbinger  of  birth, 

A  listlessness,  a  lesion  of  the  sense, 

A  dream  hallucination,  to  deprave 

Affinity  of  soul  and  earth. 

High  in  a  flurry  of  golden  fleece 
A  wing  dips  out  of  the  endless  blue, 
And  quivering  down  the  morning  sky, 
Loud  and  sweet  and  swift  and  true, 
I  the  courier  of  caprice 
Hark  to  the  consonance  of  a  cry: 
If  love  he  scorned  of  beauty,  love  must  die! 
[43] 


DREAM  AND  LOVE 

Tomorrow  was  the  palace  where  I  dwelt, 
Tomorrow  was  the  temple  of  my  dreams, 
Till  I  met  you. 

I  knew  no  morn  of  wakening  but  I  felt 
The  fancied  murmur  of  far  distant  streams 
That  fell  into  the  blue. 

The  spring  spoke  myriad  tongues  of  coming  life, 
Each  summer  came  and  fled  into  the  past 
With  all  the  rest. 

Each  autumn,  weary  of  the  unequal  strife, 
Hid  her  bright  features  in  the  winter's  blast. 
Said  I,  "Tomorrow's  best." 

But  when  I  saw  you  smile,  and  felt  your  warm 
Sweet  lips  steal  closer  unto  mine,  away 
[44] 


The  vision  sped. 

You  banished  dreams  in  one  great,  withering  storm 
Of  truth:  This  is  Tomorrow's  Yesterday, 
Awake  ere  you  be  dead. 


[45] 


FOAM  OF  DEEP  AND  CLOUD  OF  SKY 

Foam  of  deep  and  cloud  of  sky, 

Lovely,  sea-blown  butterfly, 

Soft  outspread  and  floating  far 

Down  the  whisper  of  a  blast, 

Flash  of  moons  and  murky  things 

Fainting  on  thy  velvet  wings. 

Yet  I  tremble  lest  it  be 

Our  dear  love  that's  blown  to  sea,  Sweetheart. 


[46] 


WOMAN 

Wake  softly,  softly 

As  the  rose  unfoldeth, 

Pale  red  bud  and  perfume  breathing, 

Wake  softly,  softly; 

Earth  no  longer  holdeth 

In  her  cup  of  emerald,  wreathing 

Night,  wake,  awake. 

Rise  gently,  gently, 
O'er  thy  stirring  bosom 
Velvet  lies  the  sunlight  golden, 
Rise  gently,  gently, 
Blushing  like  a  blossom 
By  the  virgin  morn  beholden, 
Gently  rise,  arise. 

[47] 


Sing  lightly,  lightly 

In  the  day's  devotion, 

Free  thy  hair  from  binding  sorrow, 

Sing  lightly,  lightly; 

With  a  fearless  motion 

Fling  it  far  into  the  morrow, 

Lightly  sing,  sing. 

Love,  maiden,  maiden, 

Life  is  like  a  flower, 

Let  thine  heart  untutored  teach  thee; 

Love,  maiden,  maiden, 

In  thy  golden  hour 

And  no  sullied  lips  shall  reach  thee, 

Maiden,  love  love. 

Prate,  nodding,  nodding, 

In  the  day's  declining 

Life  must  wear  a  dark  complexion, 

Prate,  nodding,  nodding; 

In  the  shadows  twining 

[48] 


Present  speech  is  past  reflection; 
Nodding,  prate,  prate. 

Sleep  ever,  ever, 

Far  thy  brand  is  burning 

O'er  the  stream  of  darkest  flowing, 

Sleep,  ever,  ever; 

To  the  night  returning, 

Painless,  dreamless  is  thy  going; 

Sleep,  forever  sleep. 


[49] 


IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Within  thy  cheek  the  faintest  rose  reborn: 
Perhaps  we  shall  divide  the  night  and  thine 
Be  one  part  and  the  other  mine,  or  call 
Across  the  wasteland  where  the  torrents  fall 
In  foaming  resonance  o'er  the  dark  incline. 

My  part  thy  trust,  my  trust  thy  bending  low 
To  measure  evening  as  the  waters  go 
Dreaming  into  the  snowwhite  breast  of  morn; 
Thy  part  to  sleep,  my  part  k>  watch  thee  so! 


[501 


REDEMPTION 

I  came,  last  night,  so  close  to  death, 
That,  rising  to  the  last  request 
I  forced  his  jaws  apart  and  gazed, 
Twixt  fang  and  fang,  twixt  opiate  breath 
And  sleep,  into  the  rose-pink  throat. 
"I  sail  the  far  ways  of  the  sea," 
I  cried,  and  swooned  upon  his  breast. 

The  fancied  hours  whirled  about 
Like  sunlight  dancing  in  the  wine 
Till  soon,  with  senses  more  amazed 
Than  true,  the  spirit  wandered  out 
Into  the  past.  I  heard  the  note 
Of  whippoorwill  in  the  apple  tree 
And  woke  to  find  your  hand  in  mine. 

[51] 


I  CANNOT  HIDE  YOU 

I  cannot  hide  you  in  my  heart 
Because  my  eyes  disclose 
Through  distant  gazing,  or  a  sudden  start 
Of  light,  yourself:    Away  my  secret  goes! 

I  cannot  screen  you  in  a  mind 

That  dreams  the  days,  between 

Our  meeting,  dreams,  and  seeks  in  vain  to  find 

Repose  therein,  and  tears  away  the  screen. 

I  come  before  the  drowsy  moon 

Awakes  in  the  purple  sky. 

And  we  shall  know  the  eternal  secret  soon 

Of  dusk  and  love  and  summer,  —  you  and  I. 


[52] 


Thus  I  can  hide  you,  in  my  arms, 

Thus  witch  the  pain  away 

Till  dawn  comes  stealing  in  across  the  farms 

And  life  rejoices  in  a  golden  day. 


[63] 


TURN  TO  MY  ARMS 

Turn  to  the  east,  and  turn  to  the  west, 
Turn  to  the  south  and  the  north,  and  then 
Smiling  at  sorrow  and  seeking  afar, 
Turn  to  my  arms  again. 

The  gleam  in  your  eyes  is  the  beacon  of  fame. 

That  burns  to  an  endless  goal 

From  mountain  to  mountain  across  the  years 

Till  desire  dies  in  a  valley  of  tears, 

Till  the  red  fades  out  of  the  beacon  flame 

And  love  fades  out  of  the  soul. 

Rustle  of  dead  leaves,  groan  of  bough 
Tossing  to  no  avail 
Under  the  turquoise  winter  sky 
Jewelled  and  distant  and  cold  and  high. 
[54] 


Your  strength  would  follow  the  tempest  now 
And  rustle  dead  things  and  fail. 

Turn  to  the  wisdom  of  other  days, 
Question  the  seekers  that  wandered  in  vain, 
Think  of  the  love  you  will  find  at  my  heart 
And  turn  to  my  arms  again. 


[55] 


I  SENT  HER  FORTH 

I  sent  her  forth, 

For  men  spurn  most  the  things  they  love  the  best, 

And,  blinding  vision  to  her  higher  worth, 

I  cast  her  out  to  battle  with  the  rest 

That  snarl  and  surge  around  law's  prudent  door. 

She  comes  no  more. 

She  cannot  win. 

No  soul  of  flesh  won  any  battle  yet, 

That  blustered  out  to  tournament  with  sin. 

Always  they  come  and  plead  that  we  forget. 

With  lowered  eyes  and  cheeks  that  flame  and  burn 

She  will  return. 

Mine  is  the  shame. 

For  I  have  lost  the  blessing  of  a  heart 
[56] 


That  beat  for  me,  that  I  might  hold  the  name 
Of  master  —  from  some  distant  dream  I  start 
And  in  the  darkness  struggle  to  define 
Two  lips  at  mine. 


[57] 


UNBIND  THY  HAIR 

Unfold  the  beauty  of  a  whispering  night, 

Sweep  magically  over  me  again 

The  restless  sable  robe  that  with  a  flight 

Of  stars  floods  all  my  soul.  Oh,  let  me  wake, 

Casting  into  the  torrent  of  the  rain 

The  dreams  I  dream,  forever,  and  partake, 

Of  love  long  lost,  long  hidden  under  pain. 

Oh  drench  me  in  a  shower  of  the  dark 

And  drown  me  in  a  whirlpool  of  despair, 

But  save  me  from  the  relentless  hours  that  mark 

The  grains  of  sand  swift  slipping  from  the  cup. 

When  all  that  quivers  in  the  cup  is  care, 

Oh  fill  the  olden,  golden  goblet  up 

With  misty  night,  mine  own  —  unbind  thy  hair! 

[58] 


GOOD  BYE 

Whisper  thy  secret,  love, 
Time  will  not  stay, 
Hold  me  yet  closer,  love, 
Just  for  today. 

Long  will  thy  paradise 
Fade  in  dispair, 
Founded  on  structure,  love 
Frailer  than  air. 

Vast  is  the  ocean,  love, 
Silent  and  blue, 
Vast  thine  emotion,  love, 
Deeper  and  true. 


[59] 


Find  me  tomorrow,  love, 
Dead  on  the  plain, 
Broken  with  sorrow,  love, 
Striven  in  vain. 

Stars  and  a  wilderness, 
Light  that  has  flown, 
Life  has  forgotten,  love, 
We  are  alone. 


160] 


THE  LAST  MORNING 

I  seat  myself  upon  a  crystal  throne, 
I  swathe  my  temples  in  a  golden  band 
And  smile  as  through  the  arras,  softly  blown, 
Sweeps  the  wide  beauty  of  the  sunlit  land. 

Oh  God,  why  hast  Thou  made  the  world  so  sweet; 
Oh  barren  heart  what  hast  thou  left  to  give, 
That  like  the  poppy  blushing  in  the  wheat 
Thou  findest  joy  in  loneliness  to  live? 

Long  have  I  sought  as  doth  a  feeble  spark 
Borne  on  the  night  wind  cast  its  light  of  pain; 
I  will  no  longer  juggle  with  the  dark, 
Soul  of  my  soul  I  come  to  thee  again! 


[61 


REGRET 

I  never  knew  the  summer  till  it  passed, 
I  never  knew  the  sunlight  till  it  fled, 
I  never  knew  the  day  but  with  the  last 
Bright  star  of  eve  to  comfort  me  instead. 

Oft  when  the  tide  stood  hesitant  and  still 

And  when  I  laughed  and  dreamed  it  was  mine  own 

It  drew  its  waters  to  a  sterner  will 

And  left  me  wondering  on  the  beach  alone. 

Now  thou  art  gone  the  veil  is  flung  apart, 
Now  thou  art  gone!  but  in  my  soul  there  lies 
The  wind  of  yesterday,  close  to  my  heart 
Low  whispering,  and  the  dark  sea  of  thine  eyes. 


[62; 


CRY 

Thou  wert  so  fair  that  night  I  thought  not  death 
But  sleep  possessed  thee ;  moonbeams  played  as  breath 
Over  thy  lips  that  wronged  love  fancied  red: 
Then  closer,  closer  to  my  heart  I  pressed  thee, 
Scornful  of  life  that  marked  thy  spirit  dead. 

They  say  I  crept  like  craven  from  the  room 
And  ran  wild-shrieking  through  the  night,  as  doom 
Swept  low  the  feeble  structures  of  a  mind: 
But  in  my  soul  I  heard  thine  accents  speaking, 
Speaking  like  dead  rose  to  the  autumn  wind. 


[63] 


SCARLET  WIFE 

How  canst  thou  breathe  so  sweet  a  sleep 

The  while, 

How  can  thy  cheeks  glow  with  a  tender  red, 

Thy  breast  so  even  rise  and  fall 

When  wild  my  heart  is  into  swiftness  fled, 

My  temples  throbbing  to  the  trumpet  call 

Of  madness  knocking  loudly  at  my  head: 

How  canst  thou  breathe  so  sweet  a  sleep 

And  smile? 


[64] 


CONSOLATION 

Whisper  to  me  —  they  called  me  fool,  wild,  madman; 

Charlatans  they,  who  mocked  in  symmetry 

Of  heartless  ignorance;  chaffed  in  weight  of  chaff; 

Laughed  in  their  own  fool-laughter,  whilst  I  sought 

By  every  vestige,  every  living  clue, 

To  know  the  truth  e'er  life  had  sped  away. 

Whisper  to  me  —  I  know  thine  anguish  well; 
Broken,  alone  and  helpless,  on  and  on 
I  struggled:  on  and  on,  and  nowhere.  Bonds 
That  life  had  riveted  to  me  clinked,  as  death 
Scattered  the  lights  of  knowledge  in  the  dust: 
Teeth  of  a  dragon  ne'er  to  reawake. 

And  men  will  strive  as  I  have  striven,  ever, 
Die  as  I  died,  wasted,  mind  and  limb; 

[65] 


For,  fearing  we  might  understand  herself, 
Life  has  turned  torturess:  given  sight  enough 
That  we  must  see,  as  tottering  into  dark, 
Each  individual  life;  ourselves  and  all  we  love. 

Move  not  away,  but  place  thy  gentle  lips 
On  the  white  stone  that  marks  a  ruined  end, 
Thus  I  receive  thy  blessing,  and  thou  mine: 
Pass  on,  we  shall  not  meet  again,  my  friend. 


[66] 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  GREY  WOLF 

i 

Boldly  I  spoke,  and  trembled  at  the  words, 
"For  you  will  tell  me  ere  the  night  departing 
Steal  thee  away  a  dream  before  the  morn. 
Come  ope  those  glistening  jaws  wherein  the  fangs 
Give  back  the  livid  tincture  of  the  moon! 
Come  move  that  tongue  more  wont  within  the  race 
To  loll  and  drip,  than  in  the  subtleties 
Of  speech  to  spin  the  intricate  to  fashion! 
I  know  thee  well,  grey  wolf:  a  single  sweep 
And  this  sharp  blade  will  tell  if  red  thy  blood 
Or  green.  Speak!  for  I  tarry  not.  The  way 
Is  long,  afar  the  lamp  is  hung  above 
The  darkened  lintel  of  the  tavern  door: 
There  shall  thy  tale  be  told,  and  maid  and  master 
[67] 


Wonder  at  me  for  that  I  feared  thee  not: 
There  shall  thy  tale  be  told  or  else  the  spit 
Turned  by  the  potboy  o'er  the  roaring  blaze, 
Hiss  with  the  last  faint  quiverings  of  thy  heart. " 

As  first  I  spoke,  quite  unafraid  he  looked 
Not  at  my  lips  as  men  do;  but  my  eyes 
Gauged  the  intent  for  him.  Then  slow  he  turned 
And  on  the  moon  fixed  his  intensive  gaze, 
Long  puzzling  at  its  bright  placidity. 

Slow  up  he  rose,  and  yawned  and  stretched  his  legs, 
Then  like  the  wind  fled  out  among  the  pines 
Where  endless  lay  the  darkened  avenues 
Of  night;  and  I  was  after  him  alone. 

Silent  I  sped,  and  swifter  than  the  hound, 
Silent  away  and  truer  to  the  trail, 
Guided  by  instinct.  One  by  one  the  trees 
Told  out  the  varied  swingings  of  my  sword 
That  smote  their  sturdy  sides  and  rang  away. 
Now  came  the  moon  perhaps,  or  now  was  lost 
[68] 


Where  monstrous  boughs  in  monstrous  shadows  hung, 
Frighting  the  soul,  but  yet  the  heart  within 
Beat  to  the  maddening  fervor  of  the  hunt 
And  I  must  on  behind  the  fleeing  thing. 

At  last  I  fell :  a  heavy,  twisted  root, 

Sprung  from  the  earth  as  some  loud-thundering  wind 

Beat  low  the  noble  posture  of  the  trunk, 

Quick  held,  then  flung  me  headlong  to  the  ground. 

A  growling  rush,  a  shadow  overhead, 
The  snap  of  empty  jaws;  and  then  a  long 
Low  snarl  of  pain.  So  had  the  grey  wolf  leapt, 
So  leapt,  then  fled  like  coward  where  the  trail 
Descended. 

Trembling  I  stood  and  down  my  face 
The  blood  streamed  copiously;  each  gasping  breath 
Discovered  pains  new-seated  in  my  bosom: 
Onward  I  strove,  half  knowing  where  I  went. 


[69] 


II 

High  risen,  like  the  river's  ghost  to  flow 
Where  ages  past  the  stronger  river  went, 
Soft  and  uncertain  in  its  fashioning 
The  moonlight  played  upon  the  canyon  mist. 
Thrice  down  the  echoing  incline  I  hurled 
The  resonant  defiance  of  a  hate. 

"Who  calls?"  a  woman's  voice,  and  strangely  rich 
And  clear,  "Who  calls  the  grey  wolf  from  the  heights?" 
Perhaps  the  tale,  though  pledged  above  the  glass, 
Perhaps,  though  told  in  partial  drunkenness, 
Were  true!  "Come,  stranger,  nor  in  rage  descend, 
Nor  fear. "  I  felt  a  sapling  quiver  now, 
Under  my  hand:    My  eyes  in  dizziness 
Revolved  the  world  about  me;  moon  and  stars 
Went  swimming  down  amid  the  senseless  void 
And  high  above,  between  the  glowering  walls 
The  river  mist  went  creeping  on  and  on. 

Now  down  the  hill  I  stumbled,  breathing  slow, 
While  heart  and  brain  beat  wild  in  one  accord: 
[70] 


"I  come/'  I  cried,  "Though  troubled  be  the  way 
I  come,  I  come;  thy  voice  like  silken  thread 
Leads  me  afar  through  interwoven  glades, 
Yet  nearer,  nearer,  downward  to  thy  feet. " 

Alone  she  knelt,  and  o'er  a  swirling  pool, 

Far  in  mid-river,  dipped  a  goblet  low. 

Then  I  like  a  fountain  from  the  sylvan  sward, 

Enrobed  in  silk,  ensilvered  by  the  moon 

She  rose,  and  saw  me,  smiling.    Through  the  stream, 

As  comes  a  moonbeam  through  the  night,  she  came, 

Bearing  the  goblet  high  above  her  head. 

Before  a  rock  encroaching  on  the  way, 
A  rock  of  awful  massiveness  and  strength, 
Rising,  a  dark  head  in  the  vast  ravine, 

We  stood.  Then  of  the  goblet's  potion  drank  I 
Deeply,  and  cried  to  her  that  stood  beside 
To  bid  and  I  would  do  whatever  she  willed. 
No  task  it  seemed  —  as  I  would  lift  a  hand 
Today  and  wonder  not  that  it  obeyed. 
[71] 


So  did  I  heave  the  boulder  from  its  sheath 

Of  crumbling  rock  and  stubborn  mountain  brush 

And  cast  it  crashing  downward  through  the  night. 

"Behold,"  she  said,  and  as  I  turned  from  harking 
Unto  the  fall  of  that  which  I  had  thrown, 
A  light  of  gold,  in  magic  soft  and  low 
Enthralled  me. 

On  the  threshold  of  a  cave 

The  grey  wolf,  bristling,  bared  his  fangs  and  snarled: 
But  oh,  beyond,  a  hideous  spectre  sat, 
A  frightful  skeleton  that  lived  and  grinned 
In  mockery  of  the  gold,  mosaic  walls. 

Then  stealthily  from  out  a  glittering  heap, 
Two  coins  it  plucked  and  held  them  to  the  light, 
Clacking  its  knees  and  swaying  to  and  fro. 
Aloud  I  shrieked  for  there  before  my  eyes 
The  coins  turned  human  faces;  one  that  smiled 
And  one  that  wept,  in  likeness  of  my  own; 
Then  back  to  the  table  fell  they  and  were  coins. 
[72] 


"This,"  said  the  maid,  "the  grey  wolfs  secret  is; 
And  this  is  God's"  —  three  kisses  on  my  lips, 
Three  kisses  like  the  ocean's  kiss  in  May  — 
And  with  the  third  I  swooned  into  the  dawn. 


[73] 


THE   RETURN 

I 

"Why  are  the  whistles  booming  so, 
Why  is  the  hum  of  the  turbines  low? 
Is  it  land?  What  land?  Where's  France?  Where's  France? 
And  Joe,  my  bunkey,  where  is  Joe? 
He  would  not  leave  me  for  the  sight 
Of  land.    I  asked  for  him  last  night: 
Your  face  it  says  you  do  not  know. 
Oh  God,  it's  true,  he's  dead.  Dance,  dance 
Ye  lights  and  shrapnel,  ye  that  kill 
And  put  to  sleep,  nor  maim  the  sense 
As  that  vile  lotus-breath :  —  Intense 
But  sweet,  insidious  —  Yes,  I  will  be  still!" 


[74] 


II 

"Who  are  these  people  by  my  bed? 
Yes,  I  know  you  —  you're  mother  —  dead, 
I  thought  —  oh  no,  not  you,  —  sometimes 
I  think  I've  jugglers  in  my  head. 
It's  Joe  that's  gone  —  in  a  flash  of  light, 
Lost  as  a  firefly  in  the  night, 
And  I've  a  living  death  instead. 
Joe,  that  was  luck! 

Your  face,  and  chimes, 
And  orange  blossoms!  till  it  seems 
You  are  the  bride  I  knew,  my  Ruth, 
I  wish  to  call  this  vision  truth; 
Oh,  say  I'm  dreaming  life,  not  living  dreams!" 


[75] 


Ill 

"Each  night,  my  love,  you  prayed  and  wept, 
Each  night  caressed  me  as  I  slept, 
And  stole  back  to  your  single  bed, 
While  I  waxed  stronger,  grew  adept 
At  linking  thoughts  together  late 
Into  darkness  —  but  you  could  not  wait  — 
Last  night  in  the  joy  of  strength  I  crept 
To  your  room  —  and  saw  —  and  would  have  fled 
But  for  the  flame  in  my  veins.  I  fell, 
Like  the  wreck  I  was,  in  the  sombre  hall, 
You  found  me  when  you  heard  the  fall. 
The  dead  return  to  life  to  find  earth  hell!" 


[76] 


IV 

"I  speed  to  France  from  whence  I  came. 
A  girl  of  the  wheat  fields  to  my  name 
Alone,  if  I  should  not  return, 
Swore  an  eternal  truth  —  the  same 
Your  false  lips  whispered  a  year  ago. 
Oh  yes,  in  health  and  strength  and  flow 
Of  wealth  and  friends  you  wish  the  blame 
To  rest  on  me  —  Why  do  they  burn, 
Those  crimson  cheeks?  Why  do  your  eyes 
Fear  looking  into  mine,  the  true? 
The  love  I  had  was  all  for  you, 
Take  his  love  now  who  perjured  paradise." 


|77l 


THE  MOON  ON  THE  PALISADES 

I 

I  follow  the  moon  to  the  Palisades 

Where  the  dead  brush  blows  on  the  rocky  walls, 

And  streams  are  frozen  in  white  cascades 

And  torrents  steal  to  the  silent  falls 

Like  Ghosts,  on  the  Palisades. 

II 

I  follow  the  moon  to  the  Palisades 
For  the  call  of  my  heart  is  to  be  alone. 
The  forest  merges  to  darkness  and  fades 
In  the  shadows  hiding  the  steeps  of  stone 
From  the  moon,  on  the  Palisades. 


178] 


Ill 

I  follow  the  moon  to  the  Palisades 

To  merge  myself  and  my  secret  so, 

Till  the  morning  conies  and  the  dark  evades 

The  cliff  to  hide  in  the  caves  below 

At  dawn,  on  the  Palisades. 

IV 

I  follow  the  moon  to  the  Palisades 
Where  solitude  whispers  that  Death  is  free 
From  pain;  that  a  fantasy  soul  degrades 
The  living  to  sense  servility. 
There  is  peace  on  the  Palisades. 

V 

I  follow  the  moon  to  the  Palisades 

And  a  spirit  rises  over  the  waste 

As  battle-smoke  over  the  gleaming  blades 

And  I  know  that  the  spirit  of  death  is  chaste 

As  the  moon  on  the  Palisades. 

[79] 


SONG  OF  A  SUICIDE 

Last  golden  eve  I  watched  a  quivering  star 
Fall  the  long  firmament  to  the  hush  of  space, 
Last  eve  I  rose  against  the  giant  face 
Of  night  and  cried  my  sorrowing  afar. 

Last  golden  eve  I  knelt  upon  the  strand, 
I  tasted  of  the  brine  and  laughed  and  wept. 
I  felt  the  pulse  of  Time  and  thought  it  slept 
And  held  it  close  and  found  it  was  the  sand. 

Last  golden  eve  my  memories  of  thee 

Like  startled  bird  into  the  dark  I  flung 

And  watched  them  flutter  where  the  moonbeams  hung: 

Last  golden  eve  I  stumbled  in  the  sea 


[80] 


THE  WEEPER 

He  who  so  stood  beneath  the  willow's  shade, 

Thigh-deep  in  the  river,  and  with  brimming  eyes 

Noted  the  constant  coursing  of  the  tide 

That  flowed,  now  swift,  now  slow,  yet  ever  flowed; 

There  seeing  the  hidden  truth,  life's  parallel, 

Time  changeth  all,  the  river  never  is 

The  selfsame  river  —  yet  no  more  he  saw  — 

Found  consolation  in  a  woman's  arms; 

Drowned  his  poor  sorrow  in  a  vinous  glow. 

Oh  now,  long  years  forgotten,  he  is  gone, 
And  others  dwell  as  he  dwelt,  through  the  land, 
The  crystal  waters  sweep  the  same  bright  banks, 
The  wind-song  in  the  willows  still  is  young. 
Life  though  it  changeth  must  forever  be 

[81] 


The  same  —  Life  unto  death,  yet  ere  it  dies 

New  life  bursts  forth  from  out  the  strength  of  youth  — 

As  long  as  sun  and  earth  shall  sway  as  now 

Death  cannot  conquer  —  change  is  only  change. 

Oh  fool,  why  must  thou  ever  seek  divinity  beyond, 
Knowing  each  life  must  yield,  then  yield  itself  at  last, 
And,  fearing,  blind  thyself  unto  the  truth  of  all : 
Thine  immortality  takes  birth  with  every  child? 


[82] 


AT  DUSK 

I  fear  the  Soft  glow  of  the  evening  lamps 
And  the  imperceptible  passing  of  things 
From  truth  of  vision  to  shadow  being, 
The  sycophant  presence  of  him  that  clings 
To  the  coming  of  darkness  in  sable  wings. 
I  fear  the  remorseless  terror  that  stamps 
The  pallor  death  to  the  brow  of  seeing, 
That  leaves  the  clay  in  its  strange  desire 
Hearts  of  jet  in  souls  of  fire. 

Out  of  the  even  the  mists  of  light 
Flung  in  a  suppliant  moon-appeal 
Stream  to  exhaustion  in  void  of  ebon, 
Sanctioning  gifts  of  the  dust  that  steal 
Eternal  being  from  earthen  seal. 

[83] 


And  bodies  fall  from  the  spirit's  flight 
For  spiderous  silence  to  fashion  a  web  on. 
Torn  from  the  earth  and  the  surge  of  the  main 
We  sink  to  the  bosom  of  earth  again. 


[84] 


EVENING 

I  will  not  know,  for  yet  I  think  thee  near 
In  this  last  silence:  o'er  my  brow  thy  hand 
Steals  like  a  summer  wind;  the  chaliced  ear 
Holds  whisperings  from  a  ne'er  forgotten  land. 
How  dark  my  soul,  and  like  an  endless  wood 
That  knows  no  light  upon  its  shadowy  face 
Save  when  the  moon  comes  with  her  silver  flood 
To  sweep  foreboding  terror  from  the  place. 
I  feel  thy  lily  breath  upon  my  hair, 
I  struggle  up,  I  raise  my  lips  to  bless 
Thy  presence,  but  the  void,  unhallowed  air 
Cries  down  upon  me  in  my  loneliness: 
Then  with  a  fluttering  heart  and  with  the  fright 
Of  death,  I  ope  mine  eyes  and  gaze  into  the  night! 

[85] 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Hand  upon  brow,  and  in  fearlessness 

Scanning  the  heavens, 

Conscious  and  proud  of  the  youth  of  him, 

Tall  and  stately  and  handsome, 

Bares  he  to  sunset  the  sacred  strength  of  his  bosom; 

Prays  in  the  hopefulness  of  a  day  of  grace 

To  the  Great  Spirit. 

Soft  as  the  purr  of  the  puma, 
Deep  in  the  heart  of  the  valley, 
Murmurs  the  bowstring. 

Slender  and  swift, 

Like  to  the  hiss  of  the  adder 

Whispers  the  arrow. 

[86] 


Silent  the  crest  is,  alone;  and  the  darkness 

O'er  the  abysses 

Draws  her  keep  mantle,  relentless. 

Oh,  but  Thy  hand  o'er  a  brow 

Wilder  than  death,  where  it  rests  on  the  rocks  of  the  canyon 

Sootheth  unseen  the  last  of  a  noble  race: 

Thou,  the  Great  Spirit! 


[87] 


THE   STORY  OF  THE  JUDGE 

;Tis  bosomed  deep  in  utmost  secrecy, 

Fearful  of  nothing,  for  the  seal  is  death: 

And  I  can  laugh  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 

Humor  its  sorrows  or  cajole  its  cares, 

A  favored  child.  Mayhap  its  brimming  fold 

Will  give  a  yearling  for  new  sacrifice, 

Life  for  a  life:  most  carefully  will  the  noose 

Be  played  until  some  lamb,  unwary,  feed 

Within  the  precinct  of  the  evidence 

And  all  is  silent. 

Now  the  joyful  blood 
Careers  through  my  veins  in  orgiastic  life! 
The  dark  clouds  of  remorse  are  trembling  now 
Before  the  strength  of  this  wild,  wind-swept  heaven 
And  unlulled  breezes  singing  of  success. 
[88] 


I  am  no  more  a  man,  but  tempered  high, 
Sprung  to  an  element  through  a  blessed  act; 
Sacred  my  path  shall  be  o'er  all  the  earth, 
Man  must  acknowledge  me  as  strong  of  will, 
As  pure  of  heart,  and  scatter  roses  low, 
Bowing  to  me,  for  I  am  innocent: 
Crime  undiscovered  is  a  guiltless  crime! 

What  ails  thee,  world?  Though  I  be  obdurate 

Yet  am  I  not  a  fool.  Thy  pity  knows 

The  living,  —  cowering  yonder,  —  but  as  judge 

I  see  a  countenance  unredeemable. 

Hush  thy  rude  voices!  Though  'twas  done  unseen, 

No  man  becomes  a  sinner  till  he  sins, 

And  then  is  more  the  sinner  for  his  past. 

A  wondrous  chance  has  thrown  into  our  hands 

The  chain  that  links  the  doer  with  the  deed, 

Each  pulse  that  stirs  within  a  murderer's  heart 

Is  venom  bubbling  through  the  well  of  life: 

Death  is  the  sentence! 


[89] 


Now  the  court  is  still, 
Freed  the  long  session  of  its  loud  unrest: 
Quiet,  quiet  speaks  of  the  coming  night. 
Yet  would  I  hold  thee,  day,  as  love  unfaithful, 
Knowing  thy  long  departure,  slow  return, 
Yet  read  from  thine  eyes  that  all  regret  is  vain; 
Oh  stay  with  me,  I  fear  the  dark,  oh  stay! 
For  with  her  own  white  fingers  have  I  torn 
The  lily  breast  of  Truth:  Oh  stay  with  me! 

The  risen  moon  is  like  a  thread  of  gold, 
Virgin,  as  thou  wert,  and  as  soon  to  pass; 
Dim  in  its  bending  cup  thy  face  is  dreaming, 
Closed  are  thine  eyes,  and  o'er  a  pallid  brow 
The  languid  moonbeams  wave  thy  molten  hair. 

Speak  to  me,  speak!  Oh  God,  am  I  so  low? 
So  low!  What  cares  the  universe  for  me, 
A  maddened  fool  who  in  the  way  of  dreams 
Governed  the  living  in  the  force  of  law, 
Masking  his  hideous  self  unwittingly! 

[90] 


A  poison  draught  to  end  a  poisoned  life, 
And  then  I  climb  that  vast  stairway  beyond, 
Upward  and  upward  to  eternity: 
Over  the  shadowy  steps  thy  light  will  come, 
Whispering  endless  time,  unbroken  faith. 

Sail  on  forever  till  the  night  shall  hide  thee, 
Fled  from  a  world  whose  cares  are  not  thine  own, 
Dream  into  darkness  till  the  star  beside  thee 
Mourn  his  lost  lover,  in  the  sky  alone! 


[91] 


MY  FAITH 

I  hear  no  call  of  bird,  no  drone  of  bee, 
I  hear  no  murmur  of  the  hastening  stream, 
This  is  a  barren  waste  that  was  the  sea, 
Things  that  havel>een  live  now  but  in  a  dream. 

Long  shadows  hover  in  the  dim  midday, 
Spectres  that  leer  at  noon's  low-flaming  sun, 
Motionless  sentinels  of  the  dark  that  say, 
"Thy  reign  is  o'er  nor  ours  is  yet  begun." 

What  is  this  life  so  given,  so  returned, 
What  is  this  soul  so  free  to  rise  and  soar, 
That  when  the  flickering,  paltry  flame  be  burned 
Dies  into  vastness  and  is  known  no  more? 


[92] 


Forever  the  dawn  may  come,  the  cold  of  death 
Stills  not  my  heart.  Throughout  the  wandering  sphere 
Life  cannot  be  destroyed:  a  sun's  last  breath 
Means  but  the  winter  of  a  faltering  year. 

What  is  must  always  be,  the  past  yet  live, 
For  Time  is  but  the  measurement  of  today, 
Dies  not  the  tree  that  swift  its  leaves  must  give, 
Spring  blows  reborn  what  autumn  sweeps  away. 

False  rest,  I  know  thee  now;  life  ever  takes 
From  out  the  night  the  soul  that  would  be  free, 
Thou'rt  but  a  sleep  that  morning  re-awakes: 
Almighty  GOD,  there  is  no  Death  but  Thee. 


[93] 


AS  I  PRAY 

Two  little  drops  of  poison  on  the  velvet  throne 

That  glisten  in  the  dark  lamp's  ghostliness, 

Two  little  drops  that  fluttered  from  thy  cup; 

And  didst  thou  tremble  so 

Or  was  it  pain  that  far  thy  lips  below 

Flung  out  the  glass  all  shattered  and  alone. 

Wouldn't  thou  in  death  confess? 

Lies  in  thy  palm  half  lifted  up 

No  plaintive  line  of  sorrowing  for  me 

To  still  the  burn  of  infidelity, 

Or  are  these  drops  to  eyes  of  demon  grown? 


[94] 


THE  PESTILENCE 

I  have  come  in  the  dark,  I  have  come  in  the  day, 
I  have  come  in  the  dusk  and  the  dawn, 
I  have  won  the  mad  race  with  the  ships  on  the  sea, 
And  none  shall  escape  me  and  none  shall  be  free, 
The  pleading  of  age  nor  the  boasting  of  youth, 
Nor  the  power  of  wisdom  and  brawn. 

No  question  is  asked  and  no  answer  desired, 

If  bidden  to  enter  and  ride 

Why  the  past  is  a  fancy  and  only  a  gleam 

Through  the  rust  of  a  sword  that  is  swung  in  a  dream, 

You  speed  a  swift  honeymoon  out  of  the  world 

And  you  travel  with  death  as  a  bride. 

Oh,  hate  and  aggression  and  falsehood  and  scorn 
Are  crushed  by  the  wheels  as  I  go, 
[95] 


For  the  fear  of  the  scourge  that  I  hold  in  my  hand, 
The  terror  that  knows  the  resistless  command 
Makes  living  the  only  distinction  of  life 
From  the  rest  that  lies  dead  in  the  snow. 


IN  A  GLASS  OF  RED  WINE 

Droop  low  thine  arms  that  hover  o'er  me  now, 

In  subtle,  easy  curve,  like  temple  arch 

Mosiac  hung  and  soft  in  the  sunset  spell. 

Bend  down  thy  perfumed  head,  on  lips  that  parch 

For  a  breath  of  unselfish  love,  and  on  my  brow 

Rest  thine,  dark  maid,  nor  heed  the  mosque-hour  bell. 

Far  north  the  paramour  white  winter  lies, 

As  false  as  one  I  loved.    Luxuriate 

The  rising  sun  flings  diamonds  to  the  snow, 

And  she  dwells  in  that  land;  yet  passing  the  gate 

To  our  home  some  friend  may  turn  away  his  eyes 

Where  footsteps  enter  though  they  do  not  go. 

So  fold  me  closer,  hold  me  nearer,  steal 
With  thy  great,  limpid  eyes  forgotten  flame 
[97] 


From  mine,  let  blind  devotion  call  to  those 
Who  see  naught  else  and  bow  till  they  be  lame 
Let  Allah  speak  what  breast  and  bosom  feel 
And  limb  on  limb,  and  lips  that  meet  and  close. 


THE    END 


[98] 


UNIVERSITY  OP  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


'  IS  '920 


NOV  291920 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


'.** 


